Darkness Rising
by barricade32
Summary: Enjolras is left home for his own good and in the meantime, learns something new about his favorite drunkard. Grantaire finally finds peace and quiet and is forced to deal with something that even alcohol cannot fix, himself. An excerpt from a possible modern au.
1. Chapter 1

**This is only an excerpt from a possible story in the future. I'll update if I continue with this story line.**

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He had been sent to his room "to get some rest", but all Enjolras could do was stare at the ceiling. "Get some rest, Enjolras." Combeferre had said, "We're going to go out to get material for fliers, but you need to stay here and sleep. You haven't slept in three days." _Get some rest? Ha! Right, like he could even if he wanted to. _Enjolras felt like a lion cooped up in a cage, just waiting to be set free.

Suddenly, he heard a noise out in the main part of the apartment. He heard the noise of belongings being moved and the click of locks flipping open. At that moment, he heard the most beautiful music he had ever heard. Quietly, he tip-toed to the door and peaked out to see who was there. In the living room sat the drunkard, playing the violin surprisingly gracefully. There was no way, Enjolras thought, that he could do that drunk and was amazed that Grantaire was sober for once. He looked like an angel in that moment. How could someone so aggravatingly useless make something so beautiful? The drunk's fingers flew over the instrument with such tenacity and ease. He looked as if he was one with the instrument. Enjolras couldn't help but feel impressed by the drunk.

After Grantaire finished playing his soul into his violin, he put it back in its case and began shaking. _Not again, Grantaire thought. He hated this. The alcohol gave him a momentary release, but the more he drank, the worse it got when he sobered. The alcohol became a necessity to make it through the day._ He slumped to the chair and began tearing at his hair. _The darkness began to take him over. Sometimes he wondered if he would ever be able to climb out of this abyss._ Tears streamed down his face as he ripped up his sleeve and grabbed a knife. He ran his fingers over the long scars across his arms_. When he didn't have alcohol, he was desperate for a release. The dull pain of a knife was like an old friend. _He put the knife to his arm, and then in anger, threw it to the floor_. No, I can't do this again, he thought. He remembered how dark those times were and how far he had fallen. He remembered why he quit cutting. Years of hospital visits and therapy, though it didn't change how he felt about himself, made him realize how pointless it was. There was no point in sending himself to the hospital for his trivial problems. All it did was waste other people's time, and it's not like any of it helped anyway._ "Where's the God damn alcohol?" he shouted. Grantaire put his face in his hands and let the pain wash over him.

Enjolras watched from the distance, conflicted. He still hated Grantaire for being of no effort to support the revolution, but he saw the pain in his face and realized why he was drunk all the time…

Grantaire wasn't drinking to spite Enjolras or the revolution, but to feel numb and mask the pain of sobriety.


	2. Chapter 2

_ How could he not have known this whole time? Grantaire, though annoying, was still his friend and he still cared about him._ He paced back and forth behind the door_. Should I go out there? Should I leave him be?_ He carefully opened the door and tip-toed his way out as if facing a wild animal.

Grantaire looked up in shock and embarrassment. _How long had Enjolras been there? How much had he seen? _He quickly looked down to the floor, trying everything he could to avoid eye contact with the man.

_Enjolras had no idea what to do for this man. He hated to see people suffer, especially someone so close to him. They weren't close friends, but he thought he knew everything he needed to about the guy._ He gently sat down in a chair next to Grantaire and studied the man's face. _How much pain has this poor man gone through since he's known him? _

Grantaire still refused to make eye contact with the god sitting next to him. Out of nowhere, he felt Apollo's arm reach around and grasp his shoulder, while his other gently caressed his hand. The very touch made him shudder. _What had gotten into Enjolras? He never touched anyone, let alone someone as lowly as himself._ He gazed into those piercing, blue eyes, looking for an answer.

_It was true. Enjolras never made any unnecessary physical contact with anyone. This time, it was necessary. The poor man had tried to take on so much pain all on his own. Did he know that he had friends all around him that would be glad to do anything they could to help him through his misery? He needed to show him that he was not and would never be alone. _

Enjolras's eyes were both firm and soft, cold yet warm and inviting. _Grantaire felt like he could melt in those eyes of his. There is no way that this man could be human. He was too perfect to be human._ Enjolras gradually smiled, his bright white teeth glistening. _Why would someone so beautiful smile at something as grotesque as him? _

Enjolras leaned in closer and deftly brushed a curl behind Grantaire's ear. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea what you were going through."

_Grantaire couldn't believe what was happening. Was this real? He would blame alcohol, but he knew painfully well how sober he was._ "I'm fine, Apollo. Just as utterly useless as usual." He looked away from Enjolras disgusted with himself.

Enjolras shifted in his seat, letting go of Grantaire, taking a more serious appearance_. He knew that this wasn't a joke as much as Grantaire tried to play it off as. _"You know that I don't really believe that do you? Sometimes you annoy me, and sometimes I go overboard, but you are not useless, not to me."

Grantaire looked into his eyes puzzled._ How does he think I am of any use to him? Does he really think he needs me? _"You don't have to lie to me, Enjolras. I know I'm useless. You're not the first person I disappointed, and you certainly won't be the last."

Enjolras began to feel tears forming in his eyes_. How does this man not know how meaningful he is?_ He was about to speak when he heard the door open.

"Are we interrupting something? You two lovebirds at it again," teased Courfeyrac smiling.

Grantaire and Enjolras's faces turned bright red with embarrassment. Grantaire looked away, but smiled at the thought of being Apollo's lovebird. Combeferre walked up to Courfeyrac and gave him a look saying he had crossed a line.

Courfeyrac laughed and said, "You guys are no fun anyway. Come on, Jehan. Let's go where we'll be appreciated." As they walked out the apartment door, Grantaire got up from the table and proceeded to find some way out of this awkward situation.

Enjolras watched him walk out of the room, wishing he could run after him_. The drunk had never seemed so tolerable as he did in that moment. Was he beginning to see Grantaire in a new light? Could he see himself enjoying his company?_

Combeferre walked over to Enjolras and handed him an envelope. Enjolras saw unease in Combeferre's eyes as he grabbed the letter. _What could be in it that elicited such fear out of the calmest member of the Les Amis? _


End file.
